


Gloved

by if_i_go_there_will_be_trouble



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, F/M, PTSD, Trauma, super powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if_i_go_there_will_be_trouble/pseuds/if_i_go_there_will_be_trouble
Summary: You are tasked with the job of talking to the god, Loki, and teaching him compassion and human nature.  You think the job is pointless, but you get under his skin more than he would want to admit.





	1. Speak to Him

 It was a simple enough job.  Straight forward.  Come down once a day and talk to the god.  

              “You just need to talk to him, help understand us,” the captain said, squeezing my shoulder.

              “About what?” I asked.

              “Anything, anything.”

              “I’m not going to use it on him, if that’s what you’re asking me to do.  You know my policy-“

              “We’re all clear on your ‘policy’, Y/N.  We’re just asking for you to talk to him if you can.” Tony explained, leaning back in his chair, sipping at a hot cup of coffee.

              I tugged on the glove on my right hand, thoughtfully. “Why me?”

              “To be completely honest,” Tony shrugged, “your power doesn’t have much use to us right now.”

              “So I don’t have much use to you right now.” I said, crossing my arms and biting my lower lip.

              “Not in field work,” Tony said, bluntly.

              “And right now it’s all field work,” the captain tried to smooth over, “so we wanted to give you this project to work on.”

              “What do you even think will come of this ‘project’? The man’s unreachable.” I put in.

              “My brother is not easily changed,” Thor boomed, “that is true, Y/N.  But we expect a little kindness might be good for him.”

              “You’re hoping on a lost cause.” I challenged, softly.

              “Will you do it, though?” Steve asked, still squeezing my shoulder softly.

              I looked up at those blue eyes, and nodded. “But why me?”

              “Because,” Steve sighed, “we know you can handle yourself around him.”

              “I’ll do it, but it’s really a job with no end. You can’t trick a trickster.”

              “We are asking the complete opposite,” Thor explained, smiling a little now I answered in affirmative, “we’re asking you to try and show him human compassion.  True and sincere.  No tricks. No breaking this odd ‘policy’ of yours.”

              “I’ll start tomorrow.  But I want to do something today, in exchange.” I tried not to beg, too proud to beg in front of them.  In front of my saviors.

              “What’re the terms?” Natasha asked, clear-headed and forward as usual.

              “Let me leave the tower.  I want to go visit my house and get a few things.”

              “You can’t go unaccompanied.”  Tony said.

              “I’m not asking to go unaccompanied.  I want Steve to come with me.” I said.  The captain looked down at me, and let go of my shoulder, using that hand to massage the back of his neck.

              “Are you sure this is the right time for it, Y/N?”

              I fingered the key I always wore around my neck on a silver chain.  It could open my house, my old house.  “Today, or I won’t accept your project.”

*******

 

              I rode on the back of Steve’s motor bike, wearing his helmet, which was slightly big on me.  I held my hands around his torso, and turned my hand, looking down the familiar side streets.  It seemed like it had been a while since I had been home.  It had been six months, as of last Tuesday.  As we pulled up to the house, I tried not to remember.  I tried to forget the bad.  Think of all the good, I reminded myself, remember dad pushing you on the swing and walking the dogs with mom and all the good things. But that almost made it worse. All those memories were tainted now. They made my head swim as if I was drunk.

              When they found me I was drunk.  When Steve came knocking on my door, I was very intoxicated.  I invited him in and we sat down, and for the first time I cried to him.  I cried about the whole situation.  I cried about what I was thinking of doing, and begged for him to help me.  He did. He took me to the tower, took me into his home, and introduced me into a new family.  Not a family that made me forget where I came from, but one that made the pain more bearable.  

              “You doing alright, Y/N?” Steve asked me.

              I dismounted the motorcycle and took off his helmet.  “Peaches and ice cream, cap.”  I lied, readjusting the strap of my backpack on one shoulder.  I went into the house and unlocked the door with the key I wore around my neck.  I pushed open the door and stared into the empty first floor.  

              I used to watch Star Trek with my dad in that living room.  Used to cut lettuce and tomatoes for a salad with my mom in the kitchen.  I used the run up those stairs to bed, or sneak up them after a night out.  This was my old home.  My eyes stung, and I ascended the stairs.  Steve was right behind me.  I could hear the house creak with his weight.

              I went to my parents’ room first, and pulled a dark blue afghan my mother had handmade year ago from the bed, and stuffed it into my bag.  Then I went to her chest and pulled their wedding rings from it.  They were just where the police said they’d put them, for me to get when I was ready.  Case closed. Everyone knew who did it.  

I took off my necklace and slid the two rounds of gold onto it. My hands were shaking as I tried to clasp it around my neck.  Steve stepped up behind me, and took it from my hands.

              “Let me help you, Y/N.” He requested.  I handed the braided silver to him, and he fixed it around my neck.  

              “Thanks, Steve,” I said softly, touching the gold rings with my ungloved hand.  The other hand rested, still in the black glove, by my side.  

              I then went to my room, and took a few books from off the shelf and put them in my bag.  I chose a few pictures from a photo album on my desk and shoved them into my pack.  Finally, I stood back on my heels, glancing around the room.

              “Anything else?” Steve asked.

              “No,” I said, but didn’t make to leave.  I stood in my room, quietly.  

              “Ready to go?” Steve asked after giving me a few silent moments.

              “Promise me one more thing, Steve.” I asked.

              “Anything, Y/N,” he responded.

              “Sell this house.  Get SHEILD to sell it.  I don’t want it to remain empty.  That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

              “I will, I promise.”  He said, and I turned to him. We embraced for a moment and left the house behind on the motorcycle.  

              “How’s the kid doing?” Tony asked Steve.

              “As well as she can.” Steve exhaled.

              “So not well?” Tony assessed.

              “As well as she can.” Steve repeated.

 

*******

 

              I brought down my favorite book of short stories when I met with Loki.  I took the stairs down to the cell, quite aware of the video cameras following my every moment.  

              The glass between us was so clean I wanted to touch it, smudge it, ruin it.  I wanted to know there was something protecting me from the god.  More than the magic Thor had gotten laid down, more than the cameras, more than any of the protections.

              He glared up from me from the ground, sitting cross legged and leaning on a wall.  

              “And who, exactly, might you be?” He spat.

              “Company.  Company that can leave at any time.” I said.

              “That’s great.  Leave, then.” He crossed his arms and stared at the opposing wall.  The man, the god, was a child.  A precious child.

              “I’m supposed to talk to you.” I shrugged, sitting down and opening my book.

              “So why did you bring a book?” He asked.

              “Just in case we have nothing to talk about, you might try this.”  I opened up a little sliding drawer they put used to bring his meals in, and put the book in, closing it so it was on his side.

              “What is this dreck?” He said, standing and walking over to pick it up.

              “Bradbury.” I responded.

              “Midguardian writers all have the same thing.  Your lives are short and boring.”

              “But often they say it differently.” I pointed out.

              He took the book and threw it on his bed.  I winced.  That book had come from my house.  I was hoping he would treat it with more care.  I had been in a fantasy, I thought.  I was lucky he didn’t tear the thing up.

              We didn’t speak for several minutes.  I was supposed to talk to him.  What about?  I could say anything.  Then I breached the silence.

              “My name is Y/N.  I live in the tower.  My favorite thing in the morning is the smell of coffee.”

              “That’s wonderful.” Loki said, drily.  

              “I used to live with my parents and two dogs. They’re, were, good people.”

              “Orphan?” He said, voice dripping with boredom.

              “Recently.”

              He turned his head, raising an eyebrow, before sitting down again, now facing me.

              “And how did that happen?” He asked.

              “My first date was with a 21 year old, when I was 16.  He was nice to me.  We went to a playground.  He kissed me when he dropped me off.  Quite the gentleman.”

              “The man sounds juvenile, more than chivalrous.”

              I smiled.  “He was both.  We dated until I was 18.  Then I broke it off.”

              “And why did you do that?” He asked, picking at one of his nails.

              “My dog died when I was 17.  He was old.  Shit happens. The world keep spinning.”

              “Do you pointedly not answer my questions?” Loki yawned.

              “My first word was ‘bye-bye’.  I planned on having kids when I was older.  I was planning on having them with James, the man who was 21 when I was 16.”

              “That’s fantastic.  Why don’t you go find him and leave me alone?” Loki sighed, still picking at his nails.

              “I love that book.” I pointed to it. “It was the last thing I got from my house.  My house is being sold now.  Steve promised me.”

              Loki made no motion he was listening.

              “It’s a good book.  It does talk about how short life is.  But it shows you that life, even in the boring moments, is so much more.”  There was a long pause.  “I guess you don’t have a short life, though.  Being who you are.”

              “I’ve lived a hundred of your lives.  To me, you’re nothing.  Just another piece of sand.”

              I stood, and shrugged.  “Then how is it possible, if I’m just a spec of sand, that I know more than you?”

              “What do you mean?” He shot back.

              “I know not to hurt even the people that seem lesser than me.” I finished.  I cracked the fingers in my gloves hand, then gestured to the book.  “Maybe you could learn sometime.  Learn that specs of sand can cause your world to fall apart.”

              He scrutinized me.  “Sit back down.”

              “I don’t think I’m one to take commands.” I stretched, and took a step away from him.

              “Sit down,” he ordered again, “please.”

              I smiled, and sat again, this time closer to the glass.  “Want do you want, Loki? I thought you wanted me to leave.  Or at least you did a little while ago.”

              “I want you to actually answer my questions.” He said.  “Please.”

              “First answer one of mine.  Why did you do all this? Why did you do this to us?”

              He glowered at the wall.  “I did it so I could control your realm.”

              “That doesn’t really answer my question.  Why did you need to control us?”

              “Because power,” he said, uncrossing his legs, “power is everything.”

              “I used to think that too. When people took my power away.  When they gave me power over them.  I thought it all came down to power.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t.”

              “Then what does it come down to?  Educate me.” He demanded.

              “Happiness.  We are all just trying to be happy.  Not content, not peaceful, that’s not human or Asgardian.  Not any living creature’s point.  We want to be entertained and in control and all these things, just in an effort to be happy.  In an effort to control ourselves.”

              He glared at me, but his look had softened just a touch.  “You’re naïve.”

              “About as naïve as you are.  So going on my theory, why don’t you have control over yourself?  Why aren’t you happy?”

              He rubbed his chin, and looked around the room. “Because I knew, I sensed, my fate was decided.  I knew I would never be the true leader unless I took it in blood.  I knew I would never control my fate unless I took it in blood.”

              “Fascinating,” I replied, honestly.  

              “And what exactly happened to your parents?”

              “I killed them.” I shrugged.

              He stared at me, evaluating me.  “How?”

              “That’s a story,” I said, standing up to go, “for another time.  Anyway, I think I should be off.  I have a lot to do.”

              “That’s a lie. You have nothing to do.   Answer me.”

              “It was a lie.  But I want to do a very human thing and rest.”


	2. Do You Really Want my Sob Story?

Loki watched the spot where Y/N was sitting a moment before. He tried to shrug off the feeling of curiosity.  The feeling of attraction.  But his mind was drawing parallels.  Y/N was an orphan, like him.  And she was awfully clever for a human.  And she was an enigma.  He wanted to ask her how she killed her parents, why she would, and why she seemed to keep tugging on the glove she wore on her right hand.  The woman was a question.  A series of questions. All unfathomable.  He wanted to get an answer to each one, and hoped, then, her face would disappear from his head, stop plaguing him.  That night he couldn’t sleep.  He wanted dawn, then Y/N to come.  Instead of waiting, he eventually picked up the book she left him, and began to read.

It wasn’t as bad as he imagined it would be.  Not at all.  

“Good morning, Y/N.” Steve said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting next to me.

We looked over the city, in all its morning glory.  “Mornin’ Cap.” I replied.

“How goes your project?”

“As I said earlier, the man is unreachable.”

“Are you going again today?” He asked.

I nodded soberly, touching the rings on my necklace.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled, punching my arm lightly.  

“I would like to clarify, I’m not making a world of progress with him. He’s a stone-cold ass.” I said, stirring my coffee with a spoon to mix in the cream.

“But you’re trying your best.  That’s all I could ask for.”

“Try my best,” I sighed, “that would actually involve taking the glove off.”

“We’re not asking you to do that.” Steve put in.

“I know, I know.  I just, also,”

“Know?” Steve joked.

“Exactly,” I responded with a small smile.

“You can’t force yourself to live like this forever, though.” Steve pointed out.

“Like what?”

“In fear of who you are.”

“I’m not scared of it,” I said, looking down at my gloved hand, “I’m just being careful.”

“Just be careful with yourself, too.  And careful with your project.  And you know what I’m about to say-”

“You’re all here for me.  I know.” I put in.

“Just checking,” Steve said, and smiled.

  
  


                                                    **********

 

“Punch harder!” Clint said, watching me swing at the bag again.

“I. Don’t. See. The. Point.” I said between punches.

“The point?”

“I mean I get it.  Exercise increases dopamine.  Dopamine is good for getting me out of my head. I get it.  Keeps me from falling all over again.”

“You got to know how to fight.” Clint responded.

“In case of what?  One touch with my hand and they’re over for.” I wiped sweat from my brow and started stretching my arms.  My left hand was wrapped to the knuckles.  The right was wrapped tightly to the fingers.

“Your hand doesn’t protect everyone, does it?” He mentioned.

I picked up what he was saying and kicked the bag to get out my frustration.  Then I stomped over to my bag and slung it over my shoulder.  “Low blow, Clint.”

His eyes widened, realizing the implications of what he said. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine, Barton.  I’m just going to go shower.  Thanks for the training.”  I put in, and walked away.  He was right, after all.  It didn’t protect everyone.  It didn’t save my parents, now did it?

I let the hot water run over my shoulders and hoped for a better rest of the day.  Clint didn’t mean anything by it, but it wormed into way into my heart, playing over and over and over again in my head.  Afterwards, I dressed and went to see Loki.  Get the project out of the way, I thought, then curl up and sleep it all off. Sleep the feeling of helplessness off.  

                                                            ********  
  


 

 

“You’re back,” Loki said as I enter the room.

“I’m back.” I echo, hollowly.  He cocked his head at me, as if he was about to ask a question, then slid the shelf for food open.  There laid my book.  I went to pick it up, and sat back down, leaning the left half of my body on the glass.

“Thanks.” I said, holding the book close to my body.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, scrutinizing me again.

“What do you mean?  I’m trying to talk to you.  That’s what they want me to do.  Talk.”

“But why with me?” He said, coolly.

“Try and show you the human side to the equation.”

“And is this going to achieve, what, exactly?”

“Have to clue,” I sighed.  “But I took the job, it’s just talking.  And talking might be good for both of us.  Might not inspire a recovery but it might be good.”

“And what do we have to ‘recover’ from?”

“You destroyed half of New York.  There’s a lot to atone for.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, and leaned ont eh glass a few feet away from me.  “And I guess you have to atone for killing your parents.”

I winced, “Sore spot, Loki.  Especially today.  Mind not poking it?”

“I thought you were going to explain yourself.”

“Do you really want my Sob story, Loki?”

He pursed his lips, scowled, and gave a short nod.

I looked up at him. “Why?  Why would you want it?”

“I like secrets.”

“But why do you have to add mine to your collection?”

“I don’t have to.  You can leave.  Or you can tell me.  I do not care.” He shrugged, then leaned his head on the glass so we were almost face to face.  

I sighed, and put my forehead to the glass, feeling the cool of it.

“I guess I don’t understand how someone,” he explained, slowly, “Who spouts off about kindness would want to murder her parents.  It’s a puzzle.”

“I didn’t murder them.” I said.

“I can tell you think that’s a lie.”  He responded.

I didn’t care to know how he could tell I was lying.  “Fine, I did murder them.  Not directly, but I managed it.”

“And how and why would you do that?  Placate me.” He insisted.

“James?  My boyfriend? He was a drug addict.  Became one while we were dating, around the time I was 17. I was naïve. So I helped him. Got him off his stuff and onto a more… addictive substance.”

“Which was what?  I’m not familiar with-“

I took off my glove and wiggled the fingers of my right hand.

Loki glanced at my hand and raised an eyebrow.  “And what exactly can that hand do?”

“It’s awfully special, like my mom used to say.  When my dog had cancer I could touch him and take the pain away.  If I want someone to feel a certain way, I just touch them.  When I stop touching, they stop feeling the emotion or high or low, but the dopamine rush can be- addictive.”

“So he switch drugs.  From whatever he was on-“

“Heroine.”

“Heroine to you.”

“He knew I was doping him up, but he said the rush was better than heroine.  He would want more and more and more.  For a while, I was fine with it.  Figuring if it didn’t come in a needle it wasn’t the end of the world.  Then he would come into my room at night, and I would have to touch him, he would pressure me for it-“ I closed my eyes, putting the glove back on.

“Continue.” Loki instructed.

I followed his instruction, wanting to get it all out.  “I broke it off with him.  He screamed and yelled and told me I couldn’t leave.  I began locking my window at night, and my parents slept on the couch so if he tried to break down the door they would hear him. It was a rough time.

“Then, one day, they left the door unlocked when they went to work. He came into the house and waited for us to come back. My parents were back first, I was off at the friend’s house. The three of the got into a fight. He brought a gun.  He shot it twice.  When I came home he said I had done it.  And in a way, I had.  He pointed the gun at me and told me to touch him.  So I did.  And for the first time, I gave someone pain- all the pain I felt in that moment, pain that made him feel like he was burning up.  Then while he was recovering on the floor, I shot him.  I couldn’t aim right, and it ended up collapsing a lung.  He died slowly on my kitchen floor.  

“The police came.  Called it self-defense.  Then they left me alone.  Didn’t question too much.  Said another program would come looking for me soon.  It took SHEILD six months to send Steve.  And I was a mess when they found me.”

“What do you mean you were a ‘mess’?” Loki asked.

I stared at him, remembering the drinks I took, the pills I downed.  “I was trying to cut off my hand.” I said.

His eyes widened a fraction, then closed again a little, looking less angry and suggestive, and more tired and sympathetic.  

“And that’s my sob story.” I said.  I dusted myself off and went to leave.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding neutral, not angry nor pleading.  Just curious.

“To my room.  I’m going to try and sleep my sob story off.”

“You know that won’t work.  Rest only delays the feeling.”

“Delay is better than feeling it right now.” I responded.  I took a few steps.

“Y/N!” He called after me, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”  I waved off, and slouched up the stairs, hot tears running down my face.

She was less of an enigma now, more of a sad story.  Even though, Loki couldn’t shake her face from his head. All he could think about was the shine in her eyes when she left, what looked like tears.  This human was- something.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  It wasn’t the enigma that made him think of her.  Or the sad story and suffering.  It was the way she framed it.  The way she approached it.  The way she lived.  He couldn’t put his finger on it.


	3. Look Back

I woke up with someone knocking on my door.  I rubbed my eyes and sat up, still sweating.  I knew it wasn’t from heat: the spring had come into the world with all the purpose of being subtle and slow.  The snow was barely melting.  And the bed was comfortable, but I was sore all over.  I checked my glove before inviting them in.

“Come in,” I said.

Steve walked in, all blonde hair and good intentions.

“Hey Cap,” I said, shrugging off my thin blanket.  He walked to a window and pulled back a curtain. My dark room filled with soft evening light.  “How was field work?” I asked, leaning back on my pillows.

“It went well enough.”  He shrugged.

“Ever going to tell me what’s going on in these field mission or is it ‘sensitive information’?”

He chuckled, very softly.  “Just the usual.  Trying to stop evil before it becomes evil.  Finding people like you and giving them a few options.”

“People like me?” I questioned.

“Well, not completely like you.  And most of it is false reports, but trying to gather them together.”

“So they don’t cause trouble.” I inferred.

“So they don’t feel like they have to get out of it.” Steve put, carefully.

“That’s the way the world works, Cap.  People getting in and out of trouble.”  I sighed. I went to stand at the window, by Steve.  I looked out over the city, at the people moving home and moving around and living.  

“Yeah, but that’s why I’m here now.  To stop a little trouble.” He said.

“What do you mean, Steve?” I asked.

“I mean, Y/N, your project.  I want you to be careful.”

“I am careful.” I put in.

“You know what I mean.  Loki is a master manipulator.”

“He’s a child, really.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Steve said, putting an arm around me, and squeezing my shoulder.  It was his go to default for me.  The little touches of comfort.  “He’s not a good man.”

“I never met a good man.” I argued.

“He’s not like any man you ever met.”

“I understand, Steve, I’ll be careful.”

“Just don’t tell him anything he can use against you- any leverage- any- he’ll use.  He can hurt you.” Steve warned.

I looked up at Steve, who stared out into the city streets, far below us. “I already told him too much,” I admitted.

“What do you mean?” He probed, looking down at me.

“I told him my story.  At least the part of it that put me here.”

“Y/N,” Steve exhaled, pulling me a little closer, into a sort of half-hug, “I wish you hadn’t.  If he brings it up, or tries to use it, do yourself a favor.  Walk out.  Promise me that, okay?  Don’t let him hurt you.”

I stared at Steve.  At his blue eyes, focused on mine, on him abundant care and those good, sweet intentions. And in that moment I remembered when he saved me.

_ It had been a day like all the others before it.  I rolled out of bed, thought about showering and ended up just brushing my teeth, which was an accomplishment in and of itself.  I glowered at my reflection, and then picked up a towel and threw it over the mirror.  In my routine, I would end up taking the towel off again later that night, when I managed to brush my teeth again, and would scrutinize myself in the mirror.   _

_ Then I would sit on the couch, drinking stale coffee from a mug that needed a wash.  I then would lay down, sometimes on the stairs, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on the rug, and stare at the door.  Hoping someone would come knocking.  But all my friends had been asked to leave one too many times. The phone calls from my dean at school stopped coming.  There was no mail other than spam and unpaid bills.  They were piling up.  All of it was piling up.  It was akin to being crushed to death. _

_ Eventually I felt the afternoon creep into evening, and I would go to the cabinet over the fridge that held all the booze.  But today I was out.  I got some boots on and went out into late fall weather.  I went to my car, and started it up.  Then I went to the liquor store.  That’s when the headache started.  I got my liquor from the store, then went next door.  I looked over the medications, and chose some painkillers and sleep aids.   _

_ I ended up at my kitchen counter, swigging from a bottle of Jack Daniels and coughing at the taste.  But I was drunk, from the lack of food, and my headache entered into the equation, screaming at the dehydration, hunger and depression. I took a few painkillers.  Then I few more.  Then a few more. _

_ I didn’t remember anything but the urge, the need, to cut off the offending appendage.  I sat staring, my glove off for the first time in a long time, wondering if I should try touching it to my head, trying again to feel what the hand could do to other people for myself.  It never worked.  Then I imagined living without it. Living a semi-normal life. _

_ That’s when Captain Rogers came to the rescue, again.  He was knocking at my door, and even his knock seemed polite.  I invited him in, and he saw the bottles: glass and plastic.  He asked me how many I took.  We had to count out all the pills to realize it was only six.  He insisted we get me something to eat, but refused to leave me alone.  I insisted I put my glove on first, and he took it off the kitchen table and helped me put it on my hand.  That was the first time in six months someone had touched that hand. And the first time in three months someone had been kind to me. _

_ On the ride to the grocery store, I had to ask him to pull over.  I threw up most of the alcohol, and probably the majority of the pills.  He just patted my back and apologized.  Saying something like ‘I should have come earlier.’  And, ‘It’s okay, Y/N.  We’re going to work on this.  We’re going to get you some help.’   _

_ When I had some food in my system, I was near sleep.  He insisted I go to bed, and he sleep on the couch.  The next morning, he asked me to shower, and I did.  He made my breakfast and insisted I eat.  I did.  He made me new coffee.  He then asked me, finally, what I was planning to do. _

_ After that he took me to the tower. For the first two months I was there, I was in an intensive outpatient.  Steve would take me when he could.  But if he couldn’t a car with some agent would pick me up.  I got better.  I stopped just surviving.  I started living.  Tony would get me to laugh.  Banner would check my medications and set up appointment with the ‘best’ doctors. Clint got me started training. Natasha would talk to me on the nights Steve was out.   _

_ Things got better.  And though I never thought I would get better, time does heal most wounds.  And so does family, even though a new family can’t replace who you’ve lost. _

The last time Steve found me sleeping outside of night time had been during one of my down periods.  That was – what- two months ago?  Two and a half.  He knew something was wrong, now.  The day in bed was a bad sign.  He was still checking on me, caring for me.  He was still keeping that promise I half-remembered.  The one that he was going to get me help.

“Y/N,” Steve exhaled, pulling me a little closer, into a sort of half-hug, “I wish you hadn’t.  If he brings it up, or tries to use it, do yourself a favor.  Walk out.  Promise me that, okay?  Don’t let him hurt you.”

I stared at Steve.  At his blue eyes, focused on mine, on him abundant care and those good, sweet intentions. And in that moment I remembered that he was still caring for me.  “I promise. Even if he mentions it, I’ll leave. For you, Steve.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, and held me close.  “Want to order in some Chinese food?”

I nodded.

“And how is my troublesome little brother doing?” Thor asked.

“He said ‘thank you’ today.” I responded, lifting a forkful of stir fried rice to my mouth.

“And what inspired this new behavior?” Tony asked, through a mouthful of lo mein.

I glanced over at Steve.  I decided on honesty, but careful honesty.  “I told him a little about myself.  And showed him some of my ‘human spirit’.  Guess it got to him.”

Steve glanced up and shook his head, as if to warn me again.

“See, as I believed would occur! My little brother is not unrepentant.” Thor boomed happily.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I shrugged.  

“Baby steps,” Tony mentioned.

“It’s the small victories that matter.  At least in my experiences of rehabilitation.” Natasha put in, stealing a dumpling from Banner’s box.  “But that has to be motivation for change.  How do you think you can inspire that?”

“No clue,” I shrugged. “But you’re right, Natasha.  Small victories are important.  But he has to want to change.  And I don’t think he’ll lean that way.”

“Never know.” Clint said.  “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.”

“Plan for the best and know it will happen.” Thor argued.  “My brother was a good man at one point.  Now he is a lost man. But lost men can find their way.”

“You’re mixing a lot of metaphors there, Thor.” Tony chuckled.

“I thought it was a strong argument.” Thor challenged.  “Worthy of a god of my ability.”

“No one’s challenging your ability, at least physically.” Tony smirked.

Thor leaned back, refusing to take the bait or not realizing it was there.


	4. Who Do You Owe Your Life To

I folded up on the couch and read my favorite, worn copy of  _ Slaughter House Five. _  Banner sat down next to me.  “What’s up, Doc?” I said, not looking up from my book.

“I wanted to do a check in.  Mind if I take your blood pressure?” He asked, showing me a cuff and putting his stethoscope to his ears.  I nodded and he placed it around my arm, pumping pressure into the cuff.

He nodded to himself, and rehung the stethoscope around his neck. “Normal, as usual.  Just want to make sure you medicine isn’t affecting you adversely.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, returning my attention to my book.

“Are you taking your medication?”

“Every morning with breakfast,” I responded.  He was going through the whole damn checkup.

“And depression, if you were to rate it on a scale of 1-10?”

“A solid 7.”

“Anxiety?” He asked.

“Probably a 4.”

“Anger?”

“None.”

“Suicidal thoughts?”

“Fleeting and passive.” I exhaled, trying to focus on the passage in front of me.

“So no safety risk?”

“None.”

“And how is your project going?  I advised against it, but Thor and Tony thought it would-“

“Well enough,” I said.  “I still think it’s pointless, but Steve is making sure I set boundaries and Loki himself- he’s…  Unresponsive.”

“Better than other options.”

“Such as?” I probed, looking over to Bruce as he settled into the couch.

“Too responsive.”

“What do you mean by that?” I questioned.

“Loki has a sense of juvenile entitlement and he might start to feel entitled to you.”

When I closed the book and stared him down, he explained more.

“He might become interested in you.  In what you are.  In what you could be.” He continued.

“In what my hand can do.” I put in.

“More than that even- he might feel like he can own you.  Use you.  Manipulate you.  Use you to get out of his cage.”

“I’m not some weak little girl who’s going to go weak in the knees for the first person to pay attention to me and talk to me.”  If that was true, I thought, I would have fallen for Steve so hard I would have broken my nose.

“He’s just- he’s just  _ him. _ And right now you’re not the most mentally stable person, not that I have much to say on the subject, but he can sense that.  He could use that.  He could make you get sick again, or sicker, or”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised again, for a second time in the last twenty four hours.

“Just keep a monitor on your mood, any down swig could mean,” he paused, searching for the right word, “trouble.”

“Thanks Banner.  For the worry.  And the care. The everything.” I said, and swung my legs around, leaving the room.  It was time for me to do my project.

I walked down the stairs with a sense, no burden, of anxiety.  It was the worry of fruition: that what Steve and Bruce warned me about would come true.  I stepped into the hallway, staring past the glass, and at the god. He seemed completely at peace, lying on his bed.  I almost breathed a sigh of relief and went to leave, go back to the book I held in my hand, read it for a fifth or sixth time, when Loki spoke up.

“You’re back.” He said, not opening his eyes.

“I follow my orders.”

“You don’t seem like the kind to follow orders.  Unless they suit you.” He chuckled, sitting up in bed and moving closer to the glass.  He sat down, cross-legged.  

“Not untrue.” I shrugged.  

“So, what will we talk about today?  Do you have more to tell me about, like I’m another one of your doctors?” He played.  

I bristled, knowing he was just trying to get under my skin.  “My doctors usually aren’t locked up narcissists.”

He smirked.  “I wouldn’t say I’m a narcissist.”

“What would you call yourself, then?”

“Maybe ‘ambitious’.”

“Ambitious people don’t destroy what they want to achieve.” I said, referencing his try at decimating New York.  

“Not unless they plan to rebuild it.”

“And how would you rebuild it?” I questioned.

“In a better image.”

“In your own image?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

“Narcissist.” I threw in.  

He chuckled softly.  I was perturbed by the amount of smiling the man was doing.  “What’re you playing at?” I asked.  

“What do you mean by that?”

“What’re you doing?  You’re smiling.  You’re laughing.”

He bit his bottom lips, his expression unreadable for a moment, then he returned to a smirk.  “Maybe I’m having the speedy recovery they’re hoping for.  That’s why they sent you down here to talk to me, right?  They’re hoping you’ll fix me.”

I nodded, slowly, in affirmation.

“And what do you think of this business?  You agreed to be enlisted.  And as we said before, you don’t actually seem like you’d be one to follow orders.”

“They’ve helped me.  They’ve saved me. I owe them a little help here and there.” I confessed.

“Couldn’t you be useful in other- capacities?” He probed.  I sat down, leaning on the wall behind me. I tried to maintain a neutral expression.

“I won’t use it.” I said, pointedly.

“But wouldn’t it be useful?  You seem like you’d be a great interrogator.”

              “I refuse to be that.  I refuse to be you.”  

              He looked a little shocked, for half a moment. “I’m not some monster.”

              “You relinquished any right to call yourself human when you murdered all those people.”

              “So I’m a god.  That’s what your species used to call me.”

              “You’re not my god.” I spat.  

              He turned his head to the side, rubbing his jawline.  “You could use some manners.”

              “And you could use some morals.” I shot back.

              “Touché, my dear.” He chuckled.

              “I’m not your dear.”

              “Then whose are you?” He asked.

              “I’m no one’s.”

              “Lie.  You think you belong to someone.  Or you owe someone something.  More than you owe the others.  I can tell. That’s why you followed the orders, truly.  You owe one of them something.”

              I cracked my neck and ignored him.  

              “Which one is it?  I wouldn’t guess Stark, though you live under his, technical roof. I wouldn’t even think it was my brother. He isn’t the kind to understand your value against using your hand.  Nor would I guess Natasha or Clint.  They trained themselves into weapons.”

              “You’re wrong.  Wrong about all of them.  About who they are.”

              “And I’ve known them longer than you.  So who do you think is right?  Someone who has seen them when there are tipping into death, or someone who needed them, needed their help?”

              “I’m not going to argue philosophy with you.”

              “Then who is it?  Banner?”

              “Stop playing this game, stop playing with me.”

              “It is the dashing Captain?  Did he save you?”

              “Stop playing with me.  I’m not a fucking toy.” I said, neutrally.

              “I’ll narrow it down.  I have time to figure it out.”  He threatened.

              “And why, in all the name that is good and not you, would you want to know?”

              “I want to know you.” He smirked.  “I want to see how you tick.  Don’t you want to understand me?”

              “No, not especially.”

              He looked suddenly angry.  It made me sit up, it made me jump, ready to fight or run. Then I remembered the glass, the precautions, and rested my back on the wall once again.

              “I want to know one thing, though.” I admitted.

His face softened and he opened his arms up, as if in surrender.  “Anything, if you’ll answer my next two questions.”

“If your questions are about me owing someone-“

“It’s not, I swear.” He said, folding his hands together.

I continued on, asking the one thing I had wondered this whole time. “What can I possibly do for you? In the given situation.”

He stared at me, puzzled.  

“I know what they want me to do- show you compassion.  Maybe even make you repentant.  But what do you think I could do for you?  What do think I could possibly accomplish?” I asked.

He stared at me, rather soberly.  We were quiet, to the uncomfortable point of silence, for a few moments, before he said, honestly, almost warmly, “I wouldn’t actually mind being shown some compassion.  Having some company.”

I nodded, settling on figuring out that answer later, with the comfort of people I knew around me.  I filed it away for the Avengers to figure out.  “And your question?”

“First, what exactly can your hand do?”

I nodded, and collected my thoughts.  “Scientifically, they don’t know yet or why or how.  They don’t know what happened to me that I got-  _ this. _  But what it can do?  It can make people feel sensations.  And emotions. It can make people truthful or prideful or happy or peaceful or whatever I want.  Or it can make them feel pain.  Or a rush of dopamine.  Or like they’re high off their minds.  Whatever I want.  But more than that,” I shrugged, “I was working on it, practicing on James before he got too addicted.  It can make them see things.  More than feel things.  Envelop them in a memory of mine or of my making.  Anything I want.”

“Interesting. Quite the blessing, maybe from the gods.”

              “Next question.” I demanded.

              “Do you believe that I could change?  I could be shown compassion and repent?”

              “After your last answer,” I answered, honestly as ever, “I’m not at all sure.”  And I got up, and left.

              The girl was driving Loki insane.  He waited for her to come again, waited with baited breath, on the edge of his bed.  The girl was- what was she exactly?  Again explanation was lost to him.  She was extraordinary.  She was honest with him.  She was true. She was righteous.  She had a spark of compassion.  And she made him- was this even right? She made him want more of her. Her constant company.  Her affections.  She made him impatient.  She was becoming his weak point.  And he fought it, but always ended up giving in, dreaming of her even in his broken sleep.


	5. Free, Sort Of

“I need to talk to all of you.” I said, walking into the room they were all congregating after their last mission.  Steve looked up, worry wearing on his face.

“What did he do?” Steve assumed, coming to my side.

“He, well, he said that ‘he wouldn’t actually mind being shown some compassion.  Having some company’.” I quoted, verbatim.  

“What does he mean by that?” Steve asked.

“I think he wants to change.  I think he might be changing.  I don’t know.  That’s why I brought it to you all.”

Thor came up to me, shaking with joyous laughter and nodding his head, “See?  I knew it.  With the right person and a share of compassion, my brother is changeable.”  

“I wouldn’t go so far,” Bruce warned, “he could be manipulating her.”

“That’s what I fear,” I admitted.  

“The man’s a master of it.” Steve threw in, still standing near me, almost defensively.  

“My brother is one to play tricks, but outright lie? No.” Thor said.

“I wouldn’t place our bets our Loki’s humanity.” Clint mentioned.

“I wouldn’t either.  Especially since I don’t bet, unless the bet is rigged.  So I say, rig the bet.”  Tony said.

“What do you mean?” Banner asked.

“I mean, well, use Y/N’s hand.” Tony explained.

I looked over to Tony, then to Steve, whose blue eyes were on mine, then to my hand.  I played with the glove on my right hand, and thought about it all.  I thought about my parents, dead, and my boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, dying on the floor.  I thought about how I could ease my dog’s pain.  How my boyfriend got off heroine and onto a more addictive substance.  I thought about how I could be helping right now.  How I could have been active in field work.  How I could have ended wars and started them with just my right hand.  I thought about it all at once, weighing the issues of the past with those of the present and future.  “I need to think.”  I said, and turned, leaving the room.  “I’ll be back in the hour.”

“Y/N! Wait!” Steve called after me, matching ace to walk by my side.  

“What’s on your mind, Cap?” I asked.

“I just want to tell you- warn you- ask you-“

“Spit it out, Steve.”

“That you don’t have to do this, and I know it could hurt you, and I know it’ll bother you, using your power.”

“Responsibility.” I put in.

“What?”

“It’s not a power.  It’s just an appendage.  Not a curse.  Not a blessing.  Somewhere in the gray in between.  It’s just more pressure. More responsibility.” 

“Listen, if you do this, you could find out something you don’t want to know.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like he’s been toying with you.  Playing you.  And if that turns out to be the case-“

“Then that’s the case.  And I’m dropped the project.”  I affirmed.

“Just- protect yourself.  Put up a few walls.”

“They were built over a year ago, Steve,” I said, neutrally.

“I got, you kid.” He said, and took my gloved hand in his.  “I have you right here.”

“Thank you, Steve.” I smiled, and left to see Loki.

“Two visits in a day?  What a treat.”  He said, but not as drily as when we started our conversations.

“I told the Avengers that you were starting to like the compassion and company.”

“That’s not exactly what I said.” 

I waved him off.  “Paraphrasing here, but Tony suggested I- well- use my hand.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed a fraction, then returned to neutral.  “And what is your response?”

“Uncertainty.”

“What do you want?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.  And there was one last factor to put into account.”

“Which is?” He probed.

“What do you want?” I returned the question.

He stood and walked to the glass from his position on the floor, leaning half his body on the glass.  We were close, closer than we had ever been before, even though there was still a protective layer of glass between us.  “I want to do what is best.”  He said, searching my face.

“Which means?”

“What will hurt you the least.”  He murmured, and shifted to lean his back on the glass and slid down.  

“Why?” I scrutinized. “Why would you want that?”

“I don’t have to justify my answer.  Leave it to a miracle that I’m caring.”

That shut me up for once.  I nodded curtly, and leaned on the glass, so our backs would be touching if the glass wasn’t there.

We were quiet.

“Did you decide what to do?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” I answered.

“That means you decided.” He shrugged.  

“I suppose I have.” I said.  We sat together for a few more minutes. Then I went to go find the Avengers again and tell them the answer I had.

I sat again in their conference room, looking over the night time turns of the city. Tony was staring at me.  Thor was sitting, legs far apart, on the couch.  Clint was perched by Natasha on the arm of her chair.  Banner was leaning on a wall.  And Steve was by me, closer than the rest, about to go in and save me at the least sign of distress.

“Why, exactly, do we even ant Loki out of his cage?”

“My brother deserves a second chance, does he not?  An opportunity to show he true colors.”  Thor said.  

Natasha nodded, “If it weren’t for second chances, I wouldn’t be part of this team.”

“But this isn’t a second chance,” Banner put in, “It’s a third.”

“But his sentence ought to be over.  What is the point of your ‘sentences’ anyway?  Are they not for the criminal to change?”

“Our jail terms are more punishment than rehab.” Tony pointed out.

“But should a god follow the jail sentences of a Midguardian?”

“We have to have consequences, no matter where they come from.” Steve mentioned.

“But consequences imply beginnings, punishment implies ends.” I put out.  “But it goes back to the main question: what would we do with him?  Or what would all of you do with him?  And how would that help his ‘rehabilitation’?”

“I would mention-“ Thor threw out, “that not all change can come from being solitary and confined in a cell.  In my life, most of it does not come from that sort of treatment.”

“Perhaps he would learn more out here,” Tony shrugged.

“But again,” I said, “What would we do with him?”

“We could get him to clean up New York.” Banner joked.

“And what?  Be forced into self-defense when someone attacks him?” Natasha added.

“I would propose third chances for my brother- but not the freedom to be around New York.  Or any point of time in which he is not being counseled.”

“And by counseled you mean guarded.” Clint inferred.

“To each his own word.”

“He could be useful in monitored field work.  Along with training.” Banner suggested.

“I would keep tabs on him at all times.  Someone has to be with him constantly.” Tony put in.  “We aren’t letting this man walk free.  But maybe we ought to let him stretch his legs.”

Steve seemed to just glare the ceiling, frustrated.  I glanced over at him before speaking, trying to get out the words slowly and purposefully.  “I’ll do it.  I’ll test him.”

“Are we all sure this is what we should be doing for Y/N?” Steve proposed.  The room, again turned to me, everyone except Steve, who continued to glare at the ceiling.

“I’m sure about this Steve, if nothing else.”  I answered, and started out of the room.

We walked down the stairs, two by two, with Steve and I in the front.  Thor and Tony walked behind us, and behind them Clint, Natasha and Banner were having a hushed discussion.  It felt like a solemn occasion.

“What a fine group.” Loki lashed out.

Tony shook his head.  No one seemed willing to speak up, so I did.

“They’re here to evaluate your readiness to leave this cell.” I said.

“Under what terms?” Loki returned, pleasantly.

“Almost free access to the tower.  Your own room.  Monitored help with field work.” Tony explained.

“And how do you know I would even want to help?” Loki challenged.

“Because I know my little brother. He prefers is freedom.” Thor chuckled.

“That isn’t freedom.  That’s a larger jail cell.”  Loki replied, neutrally.

“But would you accept the terms?” Clint put in.

“And would you consent to me touching you?” I added in.

“In what way, darling?” Loki flirted.

I kept my gaze fixed on Loki, unwavering.  “I need a yes or no, Loki.  Or I’m not comfortable with this.” I admitted.

“Yes.” He said firmly.  

Tony nodded and led me to the side of the room.  “Jarvis, open Loki’s cell door and let Y/N in with him.”

“The door is unlocked.” Jarvis affirmed.

I watched as what seemed a solid part in the glass lifted up and out of the way.  I entered into the room, and the glass slid back into place.  I was aware of the whole situation: how close I was to Loki, bare and unprotected if not for my hand.  I was aware of what I was about to do.   I was aware, to the point of anxiety.

“Face to face, finally.” Loki mentioned.  

“Are you sure about this?” I whispered, taking off my glove.

“Are you certain about this, as well?” He asked, a hint, the barest hint of worry in his voice.  It made me defiant.

“Very.” I said.  I moved my right hand, ungloved now, slowly from the left, searching for some piece of bare skin to put the hand.  Loki reached up and put it in his.  

I took one large breath in and out. Then I focused.  It was another muscle to move, something in my head and my heart.  I flicked through the options, letting muscle memory take over for a minute.  Loki’s face switched from expression to expression as I leafed through, making sure to get the right one.  Then I found it, found it for sure, beyond certainty.  And I strained that muscle, sending in honesty. 

“He’s good to go.” I said.  I was just staring into Loki’s eyes, and he was staring back into mine.  

“Why are you here?” Tony asked.

“I wanted to rule this realm.  So I waged a war.  And that was,” he winced.  It was the first sign of pain on the man’s face, and I realized this honesty was physically and mentally causing hi discomfort.  “That was not well done.” 

“Do you think your jail sentence was just?” Thor asked.  Another easy question.

“Just, maybe, the right thing to do, maybe, the best thing?  No.”

“And how do you feel about humans?” Tony asked.

“They can be lesser- but that can also be more than I expected.  They are worth understanding to an extent.” Loki returned, his face contorting to more and more pain with each question.

“Do you planning on manipulating anyone?”

“No.”

“Would you tell us if you were?”

“No.”

“Are you planning to hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“Would you tell us if you were?”

“No.”  Loki’s face was slowly slipping into a strained expression.  I wanted to pull my hand out of his grasp, postpone this to a later date, do anything to stop the pain I was causing.  But Loki held me tight.

“Do you plan on hurting yourself?” I asked this time.

“No.” Loki responded.

“Do you plan on rebelling or, in any way, being a detriment to the SHEILD initiative?” Clint asked.

“No.” Loki said.

“And what made you change?” Natasha asked, out of pure curiosity.

“Her.” He managed.  

I shook my hand from his grasp and turned to the group.  I returned the glove to my hand.

“He can come out.” Clint affirmed.

I held the door for Loki, and he bowed his head at the gesture, walking out of the room.  Alarms went off all over the tower, and I winced at the sudden noise.  “Jarvis, deactivate the alarm system.  Reset the limits to him leaving the tower without the accompaniment of one of us.” Tony restated.  The alarms shifted off, their screeching suddenly silent.  The whole hall now seemed to have an unearthly quiet.  “Well, this ought to be interesting.” Loki observed.  Then Thor encased Loki in his arms, giving him a rough sort of bear hug.  

“It is nice to see you again, Loki.” Thor smiled.

“And interesting to see you, too. Especially on these terms, Thor.” Loki replied.

Two by two, we all filed out, Loki alone in the back.


	6. AWOL

I went towards my bedroom, and shut the door behind me. But before I could even get into bed, there was a polite knock. I kicked off my shoes and responded, “Come in!”  
Steve entered and almost closed the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar.  
“Listen, Steve, I really need to get to sleep.” I said, rubbing my temples. Today had been a long day. Loki was out, and it was all my doing, for better or for worse. And I had used my hand, which was something I tried to ignore the repercussions of, tried to forget about, tried to pack away in the little box and never think about again.  
“I just wanted to talk for a minute.” He responded.   
“Okay, alright,” I agreed.   
“I know it’s been a long day, and a difficult day, but I wanted to tell you…” He paused.  
“What? Stay away from Loki? Don’t go looking for trouble? Be careful? I know, Steve I know.”  
“It’s more than that.” Steve said, and moved to stand only inches away from me.  
“Steve, I’m not up for playing right now. Just tell me what it is.” I sighed, looking down at my chipped toe nail polish then up at his blue eyes.   
“Loki, he, well, he has responded pretty strongly to you.” Steve explained.  
I waited for him to continue.  
“He seems to have taken a liking to you.” Steve went on. Then he took a long pause, and we stared at one another. “And, Y/N, I just know he isn’t right for you.”  
“I’m not looking to become his friend or his therapist or his significant other. I’m not planning on it. I’m not going to get close to him. I can’t. I won’t.”  
Steve looked at the ground, embarrassed. “I just can’t see you like I did that one night. I can’t see you again like that. You’re something to me, Y/N. You’re a lot to me. And I just can’t imagine a home without you in it.” He admitted. Then he kissed me on the cheek, softly, then on the other cheek, holding my face in his hands. They were warm. But I was almost trembling, working hard to keep my body under control.  
“Be good to yourself, Y/N. If not for your own sake, then for mine.” And he turned and left the room, almost with regret, unfinished business. And I laid in bed. But I didn’t have the energy to left out anything more than a dry sob.   
I got up and left my room for a walk. It was late, and cark out, but I put on my bomber and went out. It was almost 1:45 by the time I made it two miles from Stark tower and turned around. I stopped at a bar and went in. I ordered a drink and went to use the restroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I looked exhausted. I looked weak. It made me want to punch something.  
I went back out and chugged my drink, the usual whiskey on the rocks. Then I went out into the dark again, feeling a warm buzz and a sense of un-fulfillment.  
Behind me, I noticed a man walking half a block back. I walked a little faster, and he kept pace. Then the buzz turned on me. I felt dizzy. I felt sick. I shouldn’t have had that drink. And then I realized something worse. I shouldn’t have left it alone.   
I dropped the sidewalk, using the consciousness I had left to pull the glove from my hand. I felt him pick my shoulders off the ground and dragged me into an alleyway. But as he went to lay me down, I grabbed him hand with my right, and shot something I had only done once before into him, the extreme pain, the fear, and feeling I had felt before: loss and self-hatred. I squeezed the muscle in my head, squeezed it as hard as I could.   
He yelled out and retracted his hand. Wounded. Temporarily. But when he went to touch me again, I touched him and sent him reeling back. He retreated this time. And I was left, dazed and barely there, in an alleyway.   
I woke up at ten, when the world was in full swing. I grabbed my phone from out of my pocket, seeing all the missed calls.  
Missed call from Steve Rogers (6)  
Missed call from Tony Stark (3)  
Missed call from Clint Barton (1)  
Where are you? –SR  
We’re out looking for you –SR  
BB had to leave for his room. He’s losing his cool. We need to know where you are. –TS  
Please call me back. –SR  
I’m sorry we had you use your hand. –SR  
This is my fault. –TS  
I called Steve, he picked up after the first ring. “Y/N! What’s going on? Where are you?”  
“I got rufied, Steve. I don’t know where I am.”  
“I’ll get Jarvis to locate you. Stay where you are.”  
I hung up, and started crying. I started crying harder and harder until I heard the sound of a motorcycle pull down the alley and then felt Steve’s arms around me.  
“I’m so sorry.” Steve said. “I’m so sorry.”  
“Steve,” I whimpered, and held him tight. My right hand went to his neck, and the emotions I was feeling charged into him. The fear, and uncertainty, everything. I didn’t mean to, and I realized quickly and removed the hand, trying to pull out of his grasp and apologizing.  
“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t want to-“  
“I’m here, Y/N. I’m here. I’m not letting go, I’m here.” He whispered. “I’m here. Right here.” And he kissed me softly on the forehead.  
Steve refused to leave my side, yet again, even in the hospital. They examined me, and after several tests and talks with several doctors, and a few nurses, one who took my right hand in hers, before I pulled it out of her grasp.  
“It’s okay, honey,” she said. “It’s gonna be alright. You got Captain America, too. I know it’s going to be alright.”  
“Just don’t touch that hand, please. I can’t explain,” I took her hand in my left, and get it a small squeeze to thank her. “But thank you. Thank you.”  
Tony came with flowers, Natasha came with a hot cup of tea, and Clint came with the blanket my mom made. Banner couldn’t make it, and Thor had to watch his brother.  
They tried to talk to me, but I was quiet. I didn’t say anything but ‘thank you’, and ‘it’s fine’, and ‘I’ll be okay’.   
Eventually, the hospital let me go home. They sent out a warrant, but we had little to go on. Tall man, white, but his face was blurry when I tried to remember it.   
I had used my hand to hurt another person. Justly or not, I had hurt someone. Again. It made me sick to my stomach.   
When I entered the tower, there was commotion. I leaned on Steve, moaning, not wanting the sound with my pounding headache. I hadn’t had one like this since- well- the day Steve found me.  
“Let me see her! Let me see her! Let me go you insolent, Y/N!” Loki was the one yelling, being held back by Thor. He then was gone from Thor’s arms, suddenly, and in front of me, holding my face in his hands. Steve released me in surprise, and I stood there, held by Loki.  
He looked angry, he looked fearful, he looked as if he was about to cry.   
“I wanted to look for you, but I couldn’t leave the tower. I couldn’t get Thor off of me. I couldn’t find you, Y/N.”   
“I’m alright. I’m just fine.” I replied.   
He took my right hand and put it on his face, “You don’t have to say a word.” He said.   
And I realized what he wanted. So I let my guards down, stopped repressing the feelings, and let them go, with all their power and strength, into him. He stood there and felt everything I was feeling. He was standing there, and he understood completely.   
Steve was staring back and forth between Loki and me, unsure of whether to interrupt the moment. He was unsure whether this was best for me or not.   
I eventually let my hand slide down from his face, and he released my face from his hands. “I-I want to be alone.” I said, and headed to the elevator to go to my room.   
At seven, I headed into the bar area and sat down. Tony came in around eight and poured himself a bourbon.  
“Want anything, Y/N?”  
“What do you have to offer?” I asked, looking at the array of drinks.  
“How about a small glass of wine?” He offered, taking down a bottle of red from the cabinet underneath.  
“Perfect,” I responded, taking the glass he poured from him. I sipped it, and it as dry. My mother loved dry red wines. “Do me a favor?” I asked him.   
“Almost anything.” He promised.  
“Don’t ask how I’m doing or if I’m okay. Let’s have a normal conversation. Please.”  
“I was here to drink,” he shrugged. I nodded, gave him a small smile, and sipped my wine for a while.   
“Actually, could I ask you something? If it’s not alright with you, I’ll stop.” He put in.  
“Go for it.”  
“We have a counter-terrorism movement to help with tomorrow, and we need someone to make sure Loki it’s doing any bull shit while we’re gone.”  
“Babysitting duty?” I laughed. “Yeah, I can do that.”  
“Thanks, Y/N.” He said. “But you two seem to be- getting along.”  
“You mean how he was worried for me earlier?” I inferred.  
“He seemed a little more than just worried. He almost tore the tower apart when we realized you were gone.”  
“The man likes to throw temper tantrums.” I shrugged.  
“True enough, but you seem to wriggle your way into his likings.”  
“Through no fault of my own.”  
“Not saying you meant to,” Tony corrected, “but it’s to say ‘thanks’.”  
“Thanks?”  
“We had no clue what to do with him. Honestly, we still don’t. But the idea he might be useful one day- the idea he could ‘turn over a new leaf’, well, it’s promising.”  
“Don’t hedge your bets, Tony. That’s something you said.”  
“I won’t be, Y/N. But the less the risk, the more I like to gamble.”  
“Count cards,” I said, continuing the metaphor, “and get thrown out of the casino.”  
We went back to sipping on our drinks, not saying much, until I headed back to bed for the night.


	7. Kisses Aren't Meaningful

I sat looking over the city with a mug of coffee when Thor came in, walking with Loki.  “Lady Y/N?” He boomed.

“Here, Thor.” I said, rubbing my temples yet again.  The man was loud, even in the morning.  

“I have come to place my brother in your care, assuming you still accept to be his warden.”

“Good morning, Loki,” I waved, “You can go Thor, I know you have a mission all set up.”                

“Something to do with your eastern middle.”

“Middle East,” Loki and I corrected at the same time.  

Thor shrugged, “A shorter way to communicate.”

“Simplicity is a virtue.” I mumbled to myself, and Loki smirked, sitting down on the armchair next to me.  Thor left the room in a movement of his red cape.

“How goes your recovery?” Loki asked me.

“I’m peaches and ice-cream, Loki.” I lied.

“You’re not being honest with me.” He responded.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I said.

“Then what’re we going to do with the day?  Sit here and stare out at the city?”

              I sipped my coffee in response.

              “Tell me something, what is your favorite place in all of Midguard?”

              I thought for a moment.  “Shore, warm, at night time.”

              “Do you want me to take you to one?” He asked.

              “Not right now.” I said.  I pulled a book from the ground next to me, along with a copy of a short story I was rereading.

              “What are you looking at?”

              “As you would say, more Midguardian stories about short life and boredom.”

              “My opinion on that might have changed slightly.”

              “What changed it?  Bradbury or me?”

              “A little of both,” he admitted.  “The book was far from the worst I have ever read.”

              “So would you like to hear more?” I asked him.

              “I wouldn’t mind.” He returned.

I read Hemingway’s ‘Hills like White Elephants’, a favorite of mine, and then started on ‘1984’.  He stopped me only to comment with a misunderstanding, something lost in translation, then would listen to me again, to the murmuring of my voice.  

              “And that’s love to you?” He asked, as I closed 1984, halfway through.

              “What do you mean?”

              “The obvious sacrifice of oneself for the act of love.”

              “Let me finish the book.  Love, even- or especially, maybe- love that comes about during times of stress- is love that doesn’t stay long.”

              “Do you think it will last?” He mused to himself.

              “What exactly?” I asked him.

              “My preference for you.” He shrugged.

              “Are you saying you’re in love with me, Loki?” I quibbed.

              “Not quite, Y/N, I save those words for when I mean them.  But I consider that I do love you, yes.  In love? Different thing entirely.”

              “True enough,” I said, stretching.

              “Steve, though,” the man laughed.

              My eyes flashed with anger.  “Steve?”

              “He is quite in love with you.”

              “You assume a lot, Loki.” I said, standing up.

              “And you don’t see it, too?”

              “No, Loki.  I don’t.”

              “He is affectionate, protective, often overly so.”

              “Loki, you’re the same way.”

              “The man barely know how to control himself around you.  He can’t even keep track of you, keep you safe.”

              “I don’t need someone to keep me safe.”

              “Which explains last night perfectly.” He mused.

              “I wasn’t hurt, was I?  I’ll be wiser next time, Loki.  I don’t need a fucking scolding.” I answered.  “Besides, Steve and I are-“

              “Do you like him, Y/N?”

              “I like him well enough.” I started.  “He did save me, actually.  From myself.  I was going to cut my hand off and he stopped me.”

              Loki stared at me like he was looking down the barrel of a gun.  “Points to the dashing captain.” He said.

              “And he doesn’t assume, and he tries to do what is best and he’s”

              “A hero.” Loki finished.

              “A good man.” I reframed.

              “And you love him, don’t you?” Loki stood, and leaned over me in my armchair.  I looked up at him with equal intensity.

              “I love Steve.  I’m not sure how, but I do love him.”

              “Ridiculous.  You are much more than him.”  Loki shot back.

              “Not really.  And even in the basic idea, comparing one person to another, is wrong, Loki.  The people of this world might compare themselves to one another, but really, deep down, we are all equal.  No more or less than each other.”

              “Wrong, some are more important than others.”

              “In your eyes, Loki, not in mine.” I replied, standing up, so we were at the same level, and incredibly close.

              “And so what do you want more, Steve or I?”

              “Neither.” I replied.  “I’m not here to love someone.  I’m here to figure myself out.  Solve the damn puzzle that is my messed up brain.  Not to play house.”

              “I wouldn’t ask you to play house.”

              “You wouldn’t even know how to.” I responded. And he glared at me, and I glared right back.  

              “I quite enjoy our arguments,” he chuckled, leaning back.  “You look best when you’re angry.”

              “Don’t patronize me, Loki.” I said, settling back into the arm chair.  “And if- if you were interested in me in any capacity, you wouldn’t be playing these games with me.”

              “What would I be doing?”  He asked.

              I rubbed my temples for a moment, taking it to think the situation over.  “You would be kind, Loki, honest and kind and safe.  And how can I be safe around you?”

              “I would never hurt you.”

              “But you could.”

              “Anyone could snap your neck who lives in this tower. Why aren’t you scared of them? Why do you feel safe around the super solider?”

              “Because- simply- his love for me wasn’t born in a contained box.  Love me in a month, Loki, love me and not hurt anyone, and I’ll see where I stand.”

              Loki settled back on his heels.  We were quite for a time. I began to calm down.

              “I apologize.  That was too much.  I was too much.”

              “You were honest- the same thing you expect of me. And fiery.  And stubborn.” He insulted.  “It makes me feels like I want to bang my head into a wall.”

              “I know the feeling.” I replied.  “Let’s go somewhere.  But I have to go get changed.”  I got up, and then realized.  “Loki, I can’t leave you alone.” I said aloud.  “I’m just going to go in this.” I sighed, looking down at my sweatpants and tank top.  

              Then I looked over at him, in jeans and a long sleeve, dark green tee shirt.  All we could provide him for his capture.  “Let’s just go.” I exhaled, shaking my head with a smile.  

              Loki came to my side, and we silently took the elevator down to the first floor, getting off and walking to the doors.  “Jarvis?” I asked.

              “Yes, Y/N?” He responded.

              “Allow Loki and me to exit the tower.”

              “Permission granted.”

              “Thank you, Jarvis.” I said in return.

              “You thank him?” Loki chuckled, holding the door for me.  He had obviously calmed down too from our quarrel.  

              “Compassion, even for the artificial intelligence.”

              Loki grabbed me, one hand about the waist and one hand around my upper back.  “And what are you doing exactly?” I asked.

              “Taking you to your favorite place.” He explained.

              “Lower the contact levels, Loki.”

              “I like holding you tightly.” He smiled. Then we were suddenly on a beach, with the moon out and the stars, all hanging in the sky, and sand between our toes, and the ocean beating on the shore just a few yards away.

              “Not bad,” I commented.  “Not bad at all.”  He let go of my slowly, and I bent down, rolling my pant legs up and walking to the water.  I stepped into it, kept on going until it was lapping at my knees, and looked back at Loki. “I might even call it nice.”

              He was staring at me when I turned back to look at him, unable to stifle my blissful smile.  He walked to my side in long strides, his jeans getting soaked through, and took my hands in his.

              “What are you thinking about Loki?” I asked him.

              “You.”

              ‘“And what about me, exactly?”

              He paused, and reached one hand to my lower back, pressing me against him.  “I think you’re quite unique, Y/N.  I think you’re unique and interesting and completely mesmerizing.  You’re beautiful- sure enough, anyone can see that on a surface level- but the way you frame the world.  The way you frame the universe.  It’s bold.  It’s brilliant.  It’s aggravatingly wise and naïve at the same time.”

              “And why are you telling me this?”

              “To give some context to what I’m going to do next.” He replied.  And pressed his lips to mine.  At first I froze, then I leaned into the kiss, opening my mouth and pushing up on my tip toes to run my fingers through his hair.  He pulled away for a moment.

              “And what does this mean for us?” He asked me.

              “It means we kissed, Loki.  It means something- but not a lot.  It means I forgive you.  And thanks.  And that I have a lot to think about.”  And most of it, I thought to myself, involved Steve.  

              We headed back to the tower and sat in silence, reading a few more books I pulled from the library.  He waited for me to respond in some way, to come to some grand conclusion. But I couldn’t.  And I kept hoping I would find the solution to my problems in the pages of the book I was reading.

 


	8. Change It

“I want to try something else today,” I said, laying down my bag.

              “What do you want to do, then?” Clint asked me.

              “I don’t know how you’ll feel about this,” I responded, taking the glove off of my hand.

              He started at my hand, then looked to me.  “You want to practice?”

              “More try and regain control,” I returned.

              “Alright,” he said, breathing in and out, trying to ready himself, “let’s try this out.  But then you actually have to train.”

              “This is actual training.”  And I put my hand out to his, and he took mine in his, and we waited for a minute.  “Alright, here goes.” I said.  And I gave him the slightest pain I could, tightening the muscle ever so slightly. He winced, and nodded.  ‘Keep going’.  

              Then I gave him immense bliss, the feeling of going home and being relieved and living again. A smile broke out on his face. I squeezed the muscle tighter, until it felt like I would break into a thousand pieces.  

              “Amazing,” Clint murmured, “not bad at all, kiddo.”

              “One more thing,” I replied.  And squeezed several muscles all at once, trying out a vision, something to give him, a memory of me jumping off a waterfall.  But all the while I could feel something pressing back, something playing with me the whole time.  I released and allowed those muscles to strain, and I was hit with another vision.  It was of Clint’s home, his children running to him, the sound of laughing, him building a fire and roasting marshmallows and being home and I was there somehow.

              “What the fuck was that?” I said, steeping back.

              “I thought you could only give memories?” Clint asked, panting a little.

              “Apparently, there’s more to it.”

              “Keep practicing,” he said.

              “Think of a memory, let’s see how far I can go.”

Over the next five hours, we played with my power, until I could get down to his thoughts, just by touching him, his feelings, his raw emotion, the pull of his memories. It was fascinating.  Like being able to relive his life with him.  

              “Kiddo, we might have struck some more gold with you.” He said, taking his hand away from mine.

              “Maybe,” I shrugged.  “It’s a nice reverse to this… thing.”

              “It doesn’t seem that bad, all in all.  Not the most destructive thing.” Clint shrugged.

              “It still isn’t my cup of tea.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “I don’t like playing torturer or anything.”

              “It’s better than some people trying to play God.” Clint put in.

              “Yeah, sure, I’m not Loki, but I don’t have a clear conscience, either.”

              “No one does, no one who walks this Earth anyway.”

              “Fair enough.”

              “But you carry it heavier than other people, right?” He asked.  I took his hand in mine, and he nodded, showing affirmation, and I gave him the feeling of anger, of fear, of self-loathing, of hurt.  I gave him all of that.

              “Right enough, felt the same way I killed my first person.  Felt something like that.”

              “And how did you get over it?”

              “I remembered it was me or them, and I had more to offer the world, and they had more to hurt it with.”

              “I don’t think I have much of anything to offer the world.”

              “Well, Y/N, you had a lot of offer Loki.  Which is something none of us had in us.”

              I went to my room, and played a little music, leafing through my books as I sang softly.  Then I began to sway, holding a copy of  _ Book of Hours _ in my hands.  I closed my eyes, and tried not the think about it too much.  I tried not to play the game of remembering all the things that made my guilt feel like it would swallow me whole.

              I had lied to Loki before.  I didn’t shoot James.

              I was sorry because I did exactly what he wanted. I gave him bliss.  Then I overloaded his heart.  Pushed in every feeling and released every hormone I could. All that at once- killed him.

              He died because of my right hand, more exactly, because of what my right hand could do.  

              I continued swaying until I felt hands connect with my waist.  It was Steve, and he began dancing with me, taking my bare right hand in his.  

              “So how was your day with Loki?” He asked, after a few songs.  He turned me in his arms.

              “He kissed me.” I said.

              “Did you want him to?” He stiffened.

              “I don’t know.  I don’t really what I want.”

              “I know what I want.  I want him not touching you.  Not bothering you.  Not hurting you.” Steve let go of my hand.

              “Steve,” I muttered, “I care for you.  But I also have some sort of feeling for Loki.  I care for him, too.”

              Steve stared at me, then the floor, then back at me. “I care for you, Y/N.  I care to the stars and back.  I love you, Y/N.  I loved you from when I read that report about you.  I loved you from when I saw you in person.  I loved you for dancing when I came in.  It’s your strength. The fact you still love.  The fact you still care- it’s beautiful.”

              “Steve- I love you, too.  I know that.  You probably know that.  I just-“

              “What?”

              “James, my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, you read the file.  You know it.”

              “What you did was in self-defense.”

              “Steve, I-“

              And he kissed my cheek and left the room, before I could speak again.

              Tony sipped his drink, and Natasha was trying to catch my eyes.  

              “You think she’s ready, Clint?” Tony turned to Clint.

              “More than ready.  She’ll be a top interrogator, and she can handle herself well enough.”

              “You think you’re ready?” Tony asked me, next.

              “Ready for duty, Tony.” I responded.

              “Not to mention- what else we found out from her.” Clint threw out.

              “What do you mean?” Tony asked.

              “I can- well- I can join people in their memories. Feel what they’re feeling. Relive their lives with them.”

              “And when did we figure this out?” Tony asked, turning to Clint.

              “About five hours ago.” He responded.

              “We’ve been playing with it, practicing.  I think I can use it.  And honestly-“ I admitted, “I feel much more comfortable using this thn the other way around- less invasive, less aggressive, more subtle.” Meaning: there was no connection to my old ability.  This felt new, useful.  This felt humanizing.  I was still invading someone’s head, but I wasn’t damaging anything, I wasn’t doing anything- I felt like a tourist.  Visiting. It was so much more- elegant.

              “It’s one of the scientists we found from Hydra. One of the ones who was going to conduct experiments on- people.”

              “And you have him?”

              “In custody, currently.”

              “Let’s get this party started then,” I said, stretching.

              “Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?” Steve asked.

              “I want to be useful, now.  I want to learn to live with myself.  And I want to test this out.”


	9. Should I Stay, Or Should I Go?

I stood in his cell, surrounded by Tony, Clint and Steve.  Dr. Poppy was standing between us, surveying me, eyes full of amusement.  “This is what you brought me?”

              “This is Y/N.  She will be interrogating you.” Tony explained, “Good luck, Poppy.”

              I nodded, and stepped forward.  “Where would you like me to put my hand?”

              “Darling, someone like you wouldn’t even think of touching me back home.”

              “I’ll take that as a ‘whatever works’.” I said, and paced my hand on his forehead.  I was shocked at how easy it was getting, I could feel his thought playing here or there on my senses.  I searched each feeling, quickly living through a few.

              He was holding his father’s hand, his father edged out of his grasp to grab a gun from its holster.  There was the sound of a shot ringing out.

              He was playing chess against his professor, and felt only a twinge of satisfaction when he won.

              He was enlisted in Hydra at a young age, promised a high paying job: it would help with his widowed mother’s finances. Cancer wasn’t inexpensive.

              He liked when the test subject screamed out. It meant that it was working, and they were still fighting.  

              He was disgusted by the fried corpse in front of him.  It had once been a woman he was attracted to.  But tests were tests and subjects were just that.  The world kept turning.

              He was contacting a base in northern Tanzania, reporting that they had no working subjects.  The Tanzania base reported that their most recent working subject died in his sleep.

              By the time I pulled away I lived his whole life. And I pitied him.  And I was disgusted by him.  He melted to the floor.  

              “She killed me,” he cried out, “she killed me.”

              “You’re not dead, yet.” I said.  And I placed my hand on his wrist and pulled it up.  “I have all we need.  What should I do now?”

              “What do you mean?” Tony asked me.

              “What are we going to do with him now?” I asked again.

              “Keep him here.”

              “No,” I said, dropping his wrist.  “What should I do for him?  Should I give him something else?  The man is in a lot of pain.”

“Let him be.” Clint said.

“I want to do something for him.  He wasn’t a bad man- he’s just,”

“Leave him here,” Tony said, “You don’t owe him anything else.”

I left the cell after Tony and Clint, and turned to the guard. “Get him something to eat and drink. He’s had a rough day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard said.

I wrote his name in sharpie on my arm, along with Clint’s.  I wanted to get their names tattooed on my body. Each name of someone who I relive their lives with.  Their memories were odd to me, like scenes from a movie, something you knew didn’t relate to you but you did know mattered.  

The avengers moved out quickly, to investigate the base in Tanzania.  That left Loki and I together again, despite Steve’s argument it was unsafe for me, and Tony finding it completely hilarious.

“Loki has had no plans to leave her side, especially.”  Thor put in.

Loki pulled a face and stared to argue, but Thor interrupted again. “I would almost say you have a fondness for her, brother.”

              “And if I do?” Loki snarled.  “She’s closer to Asgardian than your Jane.  And yet she’s more human than any of you.”

              “Harm her, even touch her, and you’re back in a cell, Loki.” Steve threatened.

              “I can take care of myself, Steve,” I said, and gave him a small hug.  He pulled me closer and kissed me on the forehead.  

              “Then do take care of yourself, like we promised, yeah?”

“Y/N?” Loki moved towards me quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Good to see you, too, Loki.” I said, sitting on a bar stool and looking over the world.

“Have you had time to think?” He asked, moving my body so I completely faced him.  

“I’m going to leave tonight, Loki,” I said.  

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not.” I replied, “This is how it is: I will be gone for a while. Maybe a long while.  You will not come looking for me, because I won’t let you find me.  But when I have an answer for Steve and you and myself, I will come back, until then,” I said, and sighed, then I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a long kiss.  I pecked up his jawline and kissed his neck, and he moaned, wrapping his arms around me.

“Until then?” He asked.

“You’ll have to be patient with me.”

“You have my heart, Y/N, something I didn’t even know could still beat. But it’s yours.  Just come back.”


	10. Ungloved: Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been three years, since you’ve seen Loki, and he’s come to find you.

I marked off March and began April on my calendar.  I had three appointments set up with customers today, the usual people, who came on a bi-monthly basis.  I said I would see no one more than once every two months, it was my one rule. Most of my ability was up for grabs when they came in, for a price of fifty dollars an hour, plus tax.  I had to eat and pay bills.  I had to keep costs as low as possible, but then I also had to make a living.  Which I was now able to do.  It was difficult the first few months, until I got my consistent customers down and the usual amount of walk-ins.  

My shop has the usual stuff, crystals, incense, essential oils: all the things people would want from their psychic.  The front shop as simple enough, a beaded chandelier and comfy seating. It even had a coffee maker for people waiting.  The back had one door and another, smaller room, able to be curtained off.  The door led to my apartment, and behind the curtains were two nicer armchairs and an oriental rug I tried to scrub the stains out of.

All in all, I managed to look the part.  

I rubbed some lotion on my upper back up in my apartment, getting ready to open the store.  I had just tattooed the name of one of my most recent and most desperate clients on my back.  It was an older woman who came into the city looking for some help: moderate bipolar disorder I would guess.  She was in her depressive state when she came in, and paid five hundred dollars, in full hard cash for a complete reading.  

Complete readings were exhausting.

Usually I ran through the events on the surface of their minds, what first pulled at me.  Usually they came to consult about those.  But she needed a full life consult, she needed validation.  The whole session lasted two straight days. And I refused to let her leave my sight the whole time, fearing the memories I dredged up would make her do something terrible.  

We went through her full life.  We went through every bad memory.  We talked them over and I explained how it ‘wasn’t her fault’.  I tried to explain the world was a harsh place. I tried to explain I was sorry for her.

In the end, I returned her cash, despite the electricity bill being unpaid, and called the hospital to pick her up.  I explained she needed more help than I could give her.  I explained she had to be ready to get help.  She cried for a time, and I calmed her down by talking to her, and gave her a small sense of hope with my hand.  She decided to go with the ambulance.  

It was all I could do for her.    

I had a small string of names forming on my back already.  They were my emergency people, the customers that came to me for full readings, when their lives were on the cusp of ending. And I opened them up to themselves. I tried to remind them the world was harsh but some of the people were okay.

Three of the names on my back were drug abusers.  I invited them in, ran through the first few bits of their lives with them, and offered them a detox, which usually meant weaning them off and then sending them off to whatever level of care they were comfortable with.  

One of them had to come back to me for a second detox.  When we were together we went through his full life. It wasn’t a happy story.  He was found dead two months later.

That night I stayed in.  Another part of my routine.  Don’t leave the house. Don’t play vigilante.  Give people help when they ask.  

That’s when I heard a knock at my front door.  It echoed up the stairs and into my room.  I went downstairs and unlocked the door, unsure of myself.  

There was Loki, standing in the night air, staring at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I went looking for you.”

“Come in,” I said, moving aside for him.  I turned on the coffee machine, realizing it would be a late night.

“What’s going on?  Is there an emergency?  I thought I did a good job hiding myself.”

“Fury always knows where his Avengers are.”

“I’m not an Avenger.” I responded.

“Not for the last three years.”  He returned.

“Has it been that long?” I asked.

“It felt like an eternity.”

“So why did you start looking for me?” I asked.  “How did you wiggle out from under their thumbs?”  I poured him a cup of coffee and did the same for myself.

“I told them the truth. I wanted to find you.”

“And why did they let you go?” I questioned.

“We need you back, Y/N.”

“What for?”

“You deserve better than this.  You deserve to be with us.  To be home.”

“I made a home in myself, Loki.”

“And so did I.  Years ago. You showed me kindness.  I’m not able to forget.”

“I have a job, a life.  I have a business.”

“Something too simple for you.  Don’t you get bored?  I expected you to always be filled with curiosity.  Unable to stop moving.”

“I like the routine more than you would think.  I like having something that is mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“After all these years?” I rolled my eyes.

“After all these years.  Until the universe ends.”

              “Perfection.  But I don’t need you, Loki. I don’t.  I might have wanted you at some point, but love isn’t needing someone like oxygen. It’s not caging them and injecting yourself with them and obsessing.  It’s quieter than that.  Don’t you get it?  I don’t want another James.”

              “Give me one chance.”

              “Fine.  Tomorrow. 7.  Pick me up.  And leave me until then.”


	11. Leave it to the Academics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years makes a lot of difference

I brushed my hair back into a braid and thought about how much I wanted to just lay down in bed and forget everything, try to return to the life I had built so carefully.  I wanted to live like a person, a regular person.  You don’t realize how nice it is.  You spend all your teenage years hungering for fame and recognition, but there was nothing that actually gave you happiness like a home, a sense of belonging.  

I went to the door and opened it, and there Loki was, like he had been waiting for me.  His hair was curling slightly around his shoulders as it had gained length.  He stood in a pair of black slacks and a button down, dark green shirt.  I locked the door after me and stood in the evening with him.  

“It’s exactly seven.” I commented.

“Seven and two minutes, to be exact.” He replied.

“I know a park near here.  It’s my favorite place to go.” I said simply, taking a few paces towards the direction of it.  Loki wasn’t following.  I took his hand in mine and pulled him along slightly.  “Come on.” I continued.  “It’ll be nice, trust me.”

We walked hand in hand, his cool in mine, taking in the city as it began to turn on the street lights and neon signs.  When we reached the park, the sun was setting nicely, and I lead him to one of the benches that faced a small fountain.  

“How are they?” I asked quietly.

“They keep fighting for all those lofty causes.  They keep trying to make their world a better place.” He shrugged, still not letting go of my hand, as if I might float off and disappear again.

“And how are you?” I asked him.  “Still fighting those lofty causes with them?”

“I try to.  But it’s tiring.  To be so lonely and still trying to repent like they’ll ever forget or forgive.”

“You’re still lonely?” I asked, some part of my heart pulling like it does when you see a bad wound, like my organ had tripped on the last stair in a familiar house.

“Not with you.”

“But with them?”

“They won’t trust me.  Sure, they will let me leave once or twice, but I have to tell them where, like a child.  They let me fight for them and they let me live.  But friendship?  That’s not something they probably ever would be willing to give me.”  

We listened to the night, the people going through the park and laughter and a dog barking somewhere far off.

“It was better when you were there.” Loki continued on.  “They knew you saw something in me, and they at least tried to see the same.  For your sake, maybe.”  

I leaned my head on Loki’s shoulder, like I could somehow apologize through the contact.  Apologize for what?  For leaving?  It was what I needed to do.  But sometimes what you need devastates the people you leave for your own sake.  

“Would you ever think of coming back?” He asked.  

“For you?” I asked.

He nodded, quietly, taking his thin fingers from mine and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me a little closer.  

I sighed a little.  “I will.  For you.  For a little while.” I admitted.  “I can pack a few things tonight, cancel my appointments or move them.  And I’ll come back with you.”

“You would?” He murmured, softly making circles with his thumb on my shoulder.

“I would.” I affirmed.  

We sat like that, for a long while, until the dusk settled into night.  “I did miss you.” I said eventually.  “I missed the feeling of some sort of family.  The feeling of home.”

“I was something like a home to you?” He asked.

“You were something like living again.  You were rash, often, and stupid.  But kind.  And kindness is something I’ve learned not to expect.”

“You mean expect from me?”

“No, Loki.  Expect from anyone.  The willingness to listen is a rare trait.  The willingness to care and remember is even rarer.  And you had both.  How could I forget that?” I spoke, softly.  

Lokie turned his head to me, and took his other hand to hold my chin, giving me a soft and warm kiss.  I returned it to him, putting my hands on the back on his neck, my thumbs behind his ears and fingers on his cool skin.  His hand moved down to my waist, his mouth opening slightly.  

I packed a few things I thought I might need.  Loki stared at me as I made a few calls and canceled my appointments.  After I was finished, he took my bag from me and we left through the front door.  I put the key to my apartment on my necklace, next to the wedding rings and the old key to my house, where I had lived so long ago.  

Loki laced his arms around my waist, and pulled me in close, as if we were going to start dancing.  And then the world melted and we were outside the Tower, in New York.  

“Jarvis?” I said tentatively to the door.

Loki shook his head, “Jarvis isn’t here anymore.  Well, he is.  In some way.  It’s Friday, now.  Jarvis was transformed into Vision.  It’s a long story.  Friday, it’s me.”

“May I ask who the guest is?”

“It’s an old friend of the Avenger’s.  Tell Tony that Y/N is back.”  Loki said, pushing open the door and holding it for me.  I walked in, staring at the lobby of what was once my home.  

“They’re probably up in the bar area.  They just had dinner I believe.  Something Wanda and Vision tried their hand at.”

“Wanda?” I asked.  

“The Scarlet Witch.  She’s an interesting girl.” Loki said, walking me to the elevator.  We got in the lift and he pressed a button, and soon we were shooting up into the New York skyline.  

“Loki, I-” I paused, unsure of what I was saying.

“You’re nervous?” He asked.

“Maybe.  Or something more.  Apologetic.  Guilty.” I said.

“They were more understanding than I was.” Loki shook his head.  “When you left, I tried to go searching for you.  I wasn’t quite able to accept the change.”

“You never liked things when they didn’t go your way.” I teased.

“But I liked you well enough.” He responded.  

I nudged him affectionately, and he gave me a quick, one armed hug.  “Welcome home, Y/N.” He said, as the lift doors opened.

I stepped out and looked over the room, the couches facing towards the windows and the bar set back, an open place.  Of course Tony hadn’t changed much at all.  It still looked immaculately clean and well-cared for.  

Tony leaned behind the bar, beaming at me.  Natasha was right by the lift doors with Clint, and Steve was a few feet back, standing next to a man with hair drawn back in a bun and a metal arm.  Nat and I looked at one another for a moment, and then she put her arms around me and held me close.  

“Good to see you, kiddo.” Clint said, patting me on the back.

“God, I missed being here.”  I whispered.

“And we missed you,” Bruce said, joining the welcoming party.  

“You were gone for quite a while, Lady Y/N.” Thor said, lifting me up in some bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m back now.” I said.  “I’m sorry, sorry I left.  Sorry I couldn’t really explain why.”

“I’m popping some champagne, we got ourselves a party now.” Tony laughed, coming up to me, a bottle in one hand and a sly smile already on his face.  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pressed his cheek to my forehead.  “You got some nerve, leaving us like that.” He teased.

“We haven’t been properly introduced.” A man said, a tall man with completely red skin.  

“Y/N, I used to be-”

“She’s an old Avenger, part of the family.” Tony said, making the transition easier.

“It’s nice to meet you.” A slender woman said, in a thick accent.  “I’m Wanda, this Vision.” She said, gesturing to the other man.

“Is this the Y/N with the ability to give and receive feelings?” Vision asked.

I bowed my head slightly.  “That’s me.”

“Extraordinary.” Vision commented.  “You must have incredible empathy.”

“It’s got some uses.” I conceded.

“Do you think you could show me how it works?” Vision asked.

“Vision, give her space,” Nat said.  “Sorry, he’s a bit curious.  More curious than is really good for him.”

I nodded, and looked around.  There was Steve, still next to the slightly rugged man with the metal arm.  I disengaged the others and walked a few paces towards him.  

“Y/N,” he said, so softly I could barely hear it.

“Cap,” I replied.  And then I took a few more paces until I was in his arms, hugging him tightly, tears threatening to start up.  When we parted Steve was smiling, slightly, a watery and dazed kind of expression.

“This is Bucky, an old war buddy of mine.” Steve said, pointing to the man next to him.  

I put out my left hand, and Bucky seemed to hesitate, unsure of his metal arm meeting mine.  I quickly motioned with my right, trying to be polite, but apprehensive of myself as well.

“My left hand-” Bucky started.

“It’s okay.  My right hand-”

“It’s alright.” Bucky said.  We shook right hands, and I got a flash of nervous happiness, like he was afraid it might leave him soon.  

We traded stories back and forth, reminisced on some old memories and talked about how we were all doing, explaining the complicated last few years.  All the while, Loki sat by my side, looking over at me often as if to check I was still there.  I gave him my hand again at some point in the night, and he held onto it.  

By three in the morning, it was just Bucky, Steve, Loki and I.  The conversation shifted at some point.

“You know, you don’t forget things.  Even the things you want to.” Bucky said.

I nodded at him, wanting him to keep speaking.  He didn’t seem to want to explain at all, so I put in, “I’d give anything to forget what I did.  It’s no secret, really.  I killed my boyfriend four years ago.  I came home and he had murdered my family.  Which was sort of my fault.  He was addicted to what I could do-” I said, gesturing with my right hand, “and when I cut him off.  Well.  It didn’t sit with him.  I’m still sorry for what I did.  I could’ve spared him.  Could’ve just put him down and called the police.  But I was angry and scared and I killed him.  I wish I could forget that.  And I thought maybe if I moved, if I was around people who didn’t know, I could forget.  But there’s always someone who remembers.”

Loki held my hand in two of his, and for the first time that night, he spoke up. “I know I did something terrible.  But at the time I thought it was the only path.  I thought it was for the greater good, or something like that.  Thought I could bring and be something. And now.  Now I do feel guilty.  I do regret.”

Steve looked up at him, surprise etched across his face.  Loki looked up and saw Steve’s expression.

“And that-” he said, pointing at Steve, “that’s the worst part.  The fact everyone is so thrown off by it- no one believes I could have changed.  No one trusts me.”

Bucky looked up, staring hard at the two of them. “Steve forgave me.  He still trusts me.  And I might have killed more people than you did.  I mean, I didn’t want to.  I didn’t have a choice.  Maybe it’s different.  Maybe it’s not.”  Bucky murmured.  “I don’t know.  I’ll leave that up to some academics.”


	12. Happily

Loki walked me to my room after that, and I stood in the doorway, then pushed it open, feeling for the light switch on the wall and turning on the soft, yellow, overhead fixture.  It was like I had left it- some posters on the walls, along with a few of Steve’s drawings.  I shook my head as I looked around.

“It’s just like you left it- we thought that you’d come back- maybe.” Loki explained.

I breathed in and out, wondering at it all.  The years I had lived away, and it was still here, untouched, like some ancient site, too historical to tear down.  I remembered things I didn’t even realize I had forgotten.  Steve had been about to toss that drawing when I stole it from him and said I wanted it.  He gave it up without much argument, and then every once and a while, I would find a drawing slipped under my door, a little gift from Steve.  I kept them, taped them to the walls with tape, though I often thought it did his work no justice.  I remembered all the times I had sat here, wrapped in my mother’s blanket, the weight of the world making movement impossible.  I had memorized every small flaw in that ceiling.  And of course the bed, the one I would have nightmares in.  I bit my lower lip, my hands going to my elbows and crossing my forearms beneath my chest in some sort of worry and anxiety.

“Is something the matter?” Loki asked, quietly, putting a hand around my waist.

“I don’t know- maybe it’s childish.  I’m worried that the nightmares will come back if I’m sleeping in the same bed.” I said.

“I could stay here for the night.  If you want,” Loki offered. “I could set up a little bed on your couch.”

“I would like that-” I started. “But I don’t want you cramped up on the couch.  Just sleep with me.”  I kicked off my sandals and turned on the light by the bed, and Loki switched off the overhead light.

“Are you sure?” He asked as I took off my shirt and slipped under the covers.  

“Very sure.” I responded.  Loki took off his shoes and socks and slipped in beside me.  I turned off the lamp by the bed, and turned on my side, facing away from him, and started to worry.  Mostly about stupid things.  Was he comfortable?  What if we touch?  Should we touch?  Does he have enough space?  But before I could think too much about it, he put an arm around my, and pulled me to him.  I turned towards him, my head right under his chin.  I could smell him.  His scent was like the freeze in autumn air when winter is around the corner.  I inclined my head and kissed him softly on the cheek.  His seemed surprised at first, and then I felt his lips softly press onto my cheek, making a soft line to my lips, where he stopped just at the corner.  I smiled softly, and we pressed into one another, and fell asleep quickly.  My dreams were nonexistent: the way I preferred.

In the morning I went to the kitchen.  Steve was making breakfast, using a spatula to scrape eggs around a pan.  He put some on a plate and handed it to me.

“Thanks, Cap.” I said.

“Are you going to be staying this time?  I mean- do you want to stay?”

“I don’t know.  I mean- I had a job.  Something that resembled a life.  What good would I be here? I’m doing more out there.” I replied, honestly.

“You’re good for us.  Good for me.  Even Bucky’s got a bit of shine for you.  He says you’re a good kid.  And I wanted you around.  I mean- want you around.” He corrected.  “But you gotta do what’s best for you.”

“What do you think that is?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Y/N, that’s completely up to you.” He responded.  “But you should stay until you know.”

“I think I will.” I said, beginning on my breakfast.  “Is there any coffee?”

“You and Tony- I swear- you’re addicts.”  Steve chuckled, and grabbed me a mug and the pot.  I gave him a half smile and poured myself a cup, taking small sips.

“You should go see Clint when you’ve got a chance.  He’s been dying to see more of you.  Views you like his sister.” Steve said.

“Is he in the training room?” I asked, finishing up the eggs and beginning to wash and dry the plate.

“Where else?” Steve grinned.

I took my coffee and walked to the training room.  Clint was bench pressing when I entered, and came to stand over him.  “You really should have a spotter.” I teased.

“Hey kiddo.” He said, pushing the weight up and hooking it over the arms.  

“You got time to talk to me?  Give me some advice?” I asked.

“You having trouble with something?”  He asked, sitting up on the bench and taking a towel, wiping his face.

“Yeah, a little.”

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

I sat on the bench next to him, clasping my hands and bending over a little.  “I left because I thought it would be good.  And now I’m back, I want to stay.  But I’m back to the decisions I left behind.  I mean- I got what I wanted.  I tried the living on my own thing, the independence and self-subsistence.  But-” I stopped, grasping for words.

“No one can live like that.  Of not too many.  Not forever.  People want other people.”

“Exactly.” I affirmed.  “But I’m not sure what to do.  If I stay, I have got to make a choice.  I mean- I have Loki.  He likes me, maybe loves me.  I might love him, too.  And then there’s Steve- and I don’t know how he feel about me.  And I don’t know how I feel about him.”

“Steve’s got a soft spot for you.  He does.  But I don’t know- Steve’s the white knight type.  And you weren’t a person who needed to be saved all the time.  Steve likes you for your strength, sure, that too.  And Loki- well- I haven’t got a lot of love for him.  So I can’t tell you which to go with.  You have three options: go, stay with Steve, or stay with Loki.  And go doesn’t seem like something you want.”

“But how do I choose?” I asked.

“You don’t choose.  That’s just not how it works.  Love is a choice in some ways- you choose to fight for it.  You choose to stay with it, to work it out.  But in my experience, love makes it pretty clear who is for you.  It sets you up in such a way that you’re your own person, but with that other- you’re better.  And you make them better.”

I thought for a moment, considering everything.  Then I nudged Clint. “You’re still a big softie.” I said.

“Except when I kick your ass and make you train.” He smiled.

“Oh, god- that was so difficult.  Worth it though.  I could take down most guys. As long as they’re not, you know-”

“A trained spy, demigod, super soldier or got some weird powers?”

“Pretty much,” I laughed.

I sat down in the living room, looking over the city.  I had to weigh it all.  Make a choice.  Make some sort of decision.  Of course I couldn’t leave.  I didn’t want that at all.  Not after being back- realizing how much I missed them all.  

I knew Steve so well.  He was a white knight.  He saved me twice.  

And Loki- he was something else entirely.  He was confusing at times but kind, so kind, so well meaning at times despite how he acted.  

I knew they both loved me.  That was clear enough.  And I knew I cared for them in return- but to what degree for each?

I knew both had been vulnerable to me, at one time or another, and in those moments I saw them as clearly as I could, saw them as gray- not completely good or bad.  Just shades of gray.  

But he- he didn’t fear me.  Not even a little bit.  He loved me.  He came to find me, even if it took a while.  He brought me home.  

I thought about what Clint said.  Love makes people better.

I went to the kitchen to clean my mug, and Steve was still there.  He was wolfing down eggs, reading the morning paper.  I didn’t even realize there was a paper still delivered on a daily basis.  

“Hey Cap.” I said.

“Hey Y/N.” He said.

I passed a sponge with some soap over my mug and rinsed it out, putting it back where Steve had taken it from.

“I think, Steve, I want to stay.” I said, kind of quietly.  He looked up at me.

“For how long?” He asked.

“I don’t know.  I mean- I’m staying.  I’m staying as long as you’ll have me.  And depending on where Loki goes.”

Steve put down the paper, and took his plate and stood next to me, by the sink, washing the dish.

“Where Loki goes?” He echoed.

“I really love Loki.  He means a lot to me- like you do- but in a different way.  He says he wants to be with me.  And I think I’ll take him up on that.”

Steve took a towel and dried the dish, setting it up in a cupboard.  The quiet was tense, but I didn’t move from his side.

“I always told you, kiddo.  Do what’s best for you.” He said.  “And that’s what’s best for you?”

I nodded.

“Then you got me behind you.” He said.  He managed to give me a soft, one armed hug, and went back to his paper.

I went to Loki’s room.  I knocked on the door, and then he opened it slowly.  He was holding a book in one hand, the Bradbury novel I once showed him.  “Loki- I-” I shook my head and started again. “Can I come in?”  

He opened the door wider, his face quizzical.  

“I was wondering- well thinking. I’m more sure of you than I am of myself sometimes.  You aren’t all good, or all bad.  But you did always want the best for me.  After we got used to one another.  And you matter to me.  You love me.  Why?”

He glanced to me, and put the book down, sitting on his bed.  I joined next to him.  “Because you visited me.  And you treated me like an equal- not like a god or a villain.  An equal.  You saw me and all of me and you still cared and tried.  You were the first friend I had- then the first love.  Maybe you didn’t stay- but I could handle that.  Because I knew I’d see you again.  As long as I could see you, distance wasn’t much.  Especially if that was what you needed.”

“I love you, Loki.  I want to be with you.”

He looked over at me, taking my hand in his.  “Just me?”

“Just you.”

I moved my hands up, holding his face, and kissed him softly, so softly.  And he kissed back, with more pressure, his arms encircling my waist and pulling me closer.  The kisses became hungry, and we began to move together, pressed together.  He laid back, and moved me on top of him, so I was sitting up, straddling him, bent over to continue kissing.  

He thrust his pelvis up, rhythmically.  I pulled him up so he was sitting, too, his hands moving up to the clasp on my bra.  He undid the hook from the eye, and I removed the excess clothing, throwing it to the floor.  We stopped kissing and together got his shirt off, breathing rather heavily.  That was thrown to the ground, too.  

I pushed him down again and pressed him into the bed with my hands on his chest.  I stopped kissing him and moved to lightly nip his ear.  He inhaled and tossed me on my back, using one hand to grip my hands above my head, and the other to massage my breast.  He nipped me in return.  Then he tapped on my shorts and I nodded, and he undid the button and slid them off me, along with my underwear, which were again thrown to the ground.  I was completely naked in front of him.  But I didn’t feel self-conscious, more a sense of elation.  

That night- it was the one constant: elation.  It was the first time I had had an intimate moment with anyone like that since James.  And it didn’t feel forced, it didn’t feel unsafe.  It felt natural.  

I slept with Loki and didn’t wonder or think or worry.  I just let myself be there and be happy.

 

In a few years, I met Odin.  He dismissed me at first as just human, but I refused to give in, as did Loki.  His shift in world view, he explained, was caused by me visiting him.  Odin eventually welcomed me in the household.  

Thor teased Loki about falling in love.  Tony and Natasha had reservations at first- didn’t much like seeing us together.  But time passed.  We seemed happy- stable.  And Clint was supportive as he could be.  

We were ‘married’ or some Asgardian equivalent, in our fourth year together.  Steve was my ‘maid of honor’.  Tony would not stop making jokes about it- even ordering Steve a dress.  Mine and Steve’s relationship had become a friendship eventually, both of us deciding it was the best outcome.  He had someone else in his life, who he loved dearly.   

I stood with Loki swearing the oaths under the all-father.  His hands were in mine.  And he could feel my joy and I could feel his- we became like one person when we touched, sharing similar emotions and thoughts with few boundaries.  There wasn’t anything to hide, and anything to fear.  It was quiet- in a new way- not silent- still the emotions and thoughts and noise- but there wasn’t suffering, not much more than the occasional pains.  And life seemed livable- even with my hand- or maybe because of it.


End file.
